Shadow Play
by Frost Deejn
Summary: After the fall of the Factory, Robin and Amon go into hiding. In the remote mountains away from the world, Robin must come to terms with her Craft powers when an evil force comes after Amon.
1. Wabi Sabi

_Three hundred and twenty years have passed  
_ _since the coven sank in the dark.  
_ _Encroaching shadows._

 _The heart's inner sanctum becomes a battlefield  
_ _where secrets cannot be hidden.  
_ _I found you there._

 _ **Shadow Play**_

* * *

Chapter 1  
Wabi Sabi

What Robin remembered most clearly about the escape from the factory was Amon carrying her in his arms. She was not injured, but her act of mercy had so drained her of energy that she'd lost the ability to move, and drifted in and out of consciousness.

She awoke from dreams of haunting cries, but didn't open her eyes. Someone placed a wet cloth on her forehead, and she knew without looking that it was Amon. They were in a place that smelled of wet wood and rain.

"Where are we?" She asked.

"An old cottage in Yamanashi Prefecture," Amon said.

"How long have I been sleeping?"

"Fourteen hours."

She finally opened her eyes. She was on a futon in a small room. Through the open windows she could see dark clouds, dark trees carrying clumps of white snow. No; it wasn't cold enough for snow. Squinting, she realized they were pear trees, white blossoms stuck together by rain. The yard was enclosed in a sturdy but weathered wooden fence. Fence and trees were linked together by overgrown bare vines.

"The accommodations aren't modern. No one has lived here in years. I've swept it out, but you must expect spiders and mice."

"That's fine," Robin replied in her small voice. She forced herself to sit up. "How did we get away from the Factory?"

"I carried you."

"Here?"

"I called someone. A man we both trust."

"The Master," Robin realized: Yuji Kobari, the owner of Harry's. "What about Miss Karasuma? The others?"

"They made it out." He paused, like there was something he didn't want to tell her.

"What is it?"

"When we parted ways with Karasuma...we agreed that she would say we were lost in the collapse of the Factory."

As the meaning sank in, Robin sank back on the futon. "They think we're dead."

"Everyone but Karasuma and the Master. Even Nagira. If Headquarters believe you are dead, you won't be hunted."

She stared up at the cottage's bare rafters. Would she ever see her friends again? The question caused a physical pang in her heart. But she still had Amon, and that thought brought a thrill of happiness.

Turning toward him, she asked, "Are you hurt? The Orbo..."

"I'm fine. Sore, but nothing serious."

"What will we do now?"

"Heal." He stood. "Rest. I'm going to walk to town to get food and supplies."

She nodded, and pulled the covers tighter around her shoulders.

Amon turned and walked to the door, opening an umbrella as he stepped out into the rain.

* * *

He returned with rice, tofu, some fruits and vegetables, and books.

"What are these for?" Robin inquired, picking up one of the books.

"We'll need to lay low for a while, and there isn't much to do here. There's no electricity."

"I see."

The books were classic novels and poetry. They were old and worn.

There was also a Japanese-to-Italian dictionary. She had to smile at that. Even after years of studying Japanese and a year of living in Japan, she would have trouble reading a novel in Japanese without help, and Amon knew it.

Their cottage was surrounded by forest. It was reachable only by a very old road, in such poor repair only the boldest drivers would dare hazard it. There were a few other cottages within sight, but they were all run down, mere ruins, really. A hundred years old, at least. The cottage they occupied was the same style, but in much better shape. It had a cistern for water, a woodstove for heat, tatami mats on the floor, a small table, and an alcove with an antique teapot and teacups. Robin suspect that Yuji had used his witch power to repair the place.

They could be comfortable here. And most importantly, they weren't likely to be discovered.


	2. Gathering Ghosts

Chapter 2  
Gathering Ghosts

The tea shop was small and out of the way, half hidden behind a row of bamboo. It was called Crane Harbor.

Amon glanced around furtively, making sure there was no one there to see him walk in, then entered.

The interior of the tea shop was small, sparse, dim, and decorated with a few calligraphy scrolls. There were two customers inside, a man and woman at a side table.

"Sencha," he said as he took a seat as far from them as he could get.

The proprietress, an elegant woman in a dark blue kimono patterned with yellow butterflies, her black hair liberally streaked with white, brought the pot of tea to his table some minutes later and poured his first cup.

"Sunday, three o'clock," she mumbled.

When he lifted the teacup, he found a slip of paper under it, an address written in tiny, elegant handwriting.

The woman's name was Manharu. Yuji had described her as a dear old friend.

When he finished his tea, he walked to a convenience shop and bought a few food items, then walked through some side streets to the crumbling, pitted mountain road that would take him back to the cottage.

His thoughts, as usual, were on Robin. He had no fear, these times when he left the cottage, that she wouldn't be there when he returned. He knew she wouldn't run. Even knowing his job was to kill her if he had to, she wouldn't run. He had left behind everything for that duty, and the strange thing was how little it bothered him. He wasn't bothered by the thought that he would have to be with Robin until her death or his.

'Til death do us part, he thought, uneasily.

The sun had set and it was beginning to grow dark when he sensed someone following him. Acting casual, he continued walking to a bend in the road where a large tree blocked the view ahead. There he stopped, put down his bag of sundries, and drew his gun. He steadied his breathing, steadied his heart, and waited.

He saw nothing. Could he hear it? Something large, something dark, inexorable and coming closer...

He dove and rolled into the road, aiming the gun behind him.

It wasn't human. It was nothing.

* * *

He got to the cottage and found Robin in candlelight, sitting cross-legged with a large book in her lap. He recognized by its size that it was the _Tale of Genj_ i. The modern translation of the thousand-year-old novel was the largest of the books he'd bought. He paused to watch her read for a moment.

She self-consciously brushed a lock of hair out of her face, then looked up at him. "Good evening."

"Are you sure you're old enough to be reading that?" he asked teasingly.

"If I'm old enough to kill and to risk my own life, I should think I'm old enough to read a story about seductions."

She had a point, he conceded. He went about putting away the items he'd bought.

"Amon, do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Go ahead," he answered.

"Have you ever been in love?"

It wasn't an unexpected question considering her reading material, but for a moment he found himself unable to answer. "Perhaps," he finally said.

She watched him, something unreadable in her small face. "With Touko?"

"Perhaps." He wasn't in the habit of talking about anything personal, but he considered that he and Robin would be together for a long time, and it would be awkward to avoid talking. So he added, "Touko and I were together for a time, circumstances arose that...came between us."

"What circumstances?"

Kate. But he couldn't say that. He couldn't explain it. Not to her.

"Do you think you'll ever fall in love again?"

This too he couldn't answer.

She dropped her eyes. "Forget it. It's none of my business."

He accepted the withdrawal from the subject with a nod, but he wouldn't forget it.


	3. Hiboku

Chapter 3

Hiboku

The address on the slip of paper the tea master had given him led Amon to a Buddhist temple. When he arrived just before 3 o'clock in the afternoon that Sunday, he saw Karasuma sitting on a bench in the temple's garden.

"I wasn't expecting you," he said, sitting beside her.

"I wasn't sure if it was a good idea for me to meet with you personally, but I was careful. I wasn't followed. I needed to see you myself."

"How is everyone?"

"Adjusting. It's hard to lose friends, but they're adjusting. All use of Orbo has stopped, which makes hunts more difficult, both logistically and psychologically."

"It's the right thing to do."

"We're limiting hunts. Most of the witches on the watch list...we're having trouble even keeping track of them, let alone hunting them, and... This is what I needed to talk to you about."

"What?"

"At Solomon headquarters, there's a push now to reform the hunting codes. In light of the outrage over the Factory's experiments, and how thin our resources are spread, there are some advocating for a policy of coexistence with nonviolent witches."

A surge of hope welled up in Amon's heart. It didn't show in his face. "That would mean..."

"Robin would be safe," she confirmed. "Father Juliano is one of the strongest voices in favor of the reforms."

"Does he suspect?"

"That she's still alive? I don't know. He hasn't contacted me to question my official report."

Amon nodded. "Thank you."

"As far as I've heard, no one's looking for you. No rumors of new hunters out for Robin. But you should still keep out of sight, for now at least."

"Understood."

"How is she?" Karasuma asked, her voice softening.

"As well as can be expected." He wouldn't speak of the nights when he'd walked in on her secretly weeping. He'd pretended not to notice. He hadn't asked her why: it was for guilt over the mercy killing of the imprisoned witches, or sorrow at their fate, or sadness at the separation from her friends, or fear of what the future held, or some combination of these. "She has been spending much of her time reading."

"Good." She nodded. "And how are you?"

"Fine," he answered.

"Has the wound you took been healing?"

"It wasn't serious."

"Good." She nodded again. "Ah, I almost forgot." She handed him a paper bag containing two gift boxes.

"What is this?"

"Birthday presents for Robin. One from me, one from the Master."

"When is her birthday?" he asked in surprise.

"According to Father Juliano's records, it was last Friday."

"She didn't mention it."

"Knowing Robin, do you really think she would have?"

Amon realized Robin might not have even known what day it was.

* * *

When he returned to the cottage he heard singing from inside, some Italian folk song, by the sound of it. He listened for a moment, then deliberately coughed to announce his presence. The singing stopped, and he opened the door.

Robin had been in the middle of dusting, and she looked embarrassed. "Welcome back," she mumbled.

"You never ask me where I've been," he commented.

"Why would I? I trust that you are careful, and that you will come back."

It was strange to be trusted as much as Robin trusted him. Sometimes it made him nervous. "And you never ask to go with me."

That darkened her countenance. She wanted to leave the cottage, he knew. They had been there for over two weeks, and she hadn't once complained.

"I understand it's too dangerous for me to leave," she said.

"Why didn't you tell me your birthday was a week ago?"

"Huh?" She looked perplexed. "Growing up an orphan, birthdays were never significant days for me. Besides, with everything that has been happening, it didn't seem important."

"You're sixteen years old now."

"Yes, I am. How did you find out when my birthday was?"

"I spoke to Karasuma today."

Robin's eyes widened with surprise. "How is she?"

"She is well. She'll let us know if and when it is safe to return. She sent these." He handed her the bag. "Gifts from her and the Master."

Hesitantly, blushing, she opened the gifts. One was a set of calligraphy brushes and supplies. The other was a cotton yukata, lavender in color, patterned with light green ginkgo leaves.

She closed her eyes. Her lips trembled. Her hands, still holding the gifts, also trembled. In a moment she regained her composure, and whispered, "Thank you," in a small voice that was not meant for him.

"I wish you had told me when your birthday was," he said softly.

"Why?"

He wasn't sure why. She was sixteen, the age when a girl stopped being a girl and became a young woman. It was significant.

"I would have done something special for you."

Her hands, which had been examining the contents of the calligraphy box, grew oddly still. "Something like what?" she asked.

"I don't know." He paused. "Karasuma says no one is hunting for you as far as she knows. I think it would not be too much of a risk to take you out for tea."

"Do you mean it?" she asked, barely daring to hope.

"Of course."

She rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around him. He was startled, but in a moment his tension melted and he returned her embrace.

"Thank you," she said. "For everything, Amon."

* * *

In the narrow partition where Amon slept there was a small mirror hanging on the wall above a basin of water, which he used for shaving. He looked at his face in the mirror. His face seemed a darker hue than usual. Was he tanned, blushing, or flushed?

He took off his coat and peeled his shirt down, away from the puncture mark where he'd been shot with the Orbo dart. Other than some redness around the scar, it looked fine.

He'd told Karasuma he was fine, and he _was_ fine. He'd been cleaning the wound and taking antibiotics to make sure the puncture didn't become infected. He was fine.

It wasn't even pain that he felt there, anymore. It was more like an unplaceable numbness, a tingling he couldn't quite locate. Like his skin was trying to crawl away from the spot. The feeling seemed to be spreading.

He had to be fine. Robin needed him. Or the world needed him to protect it from her.


	4. Crane Harbor

Chapter 4  
Crane Harbor

Robin had trouble falling asleep that night out of excitement for the promised outing. For weeks now, Amon had been the only other person she'd seen, and while there was no one she'd rather be with, she was craving more human contact.

Just as she drifted off to sleep, an owl hooted softly in the trees outside. The sound made it into her dream, where it was a puzzling incongruity. In her dream, the sun was shining. The windows of the cottage were wide open, and through them instead of the trees of the forest she could see Mount Fuji, huge and snowy, shining against the blue sky.

The floor of the cottage was painted with runes, which she recognized as a spell to make someone fall in love, just as she recognized she was the one who'd painted it.

"This is against the rules," Amon said, though he sounded amused.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She blotted out the activation rune frantically, canceling the spell. "Please don't hate me. I'd prefer you to kill me than hate me."

"It's just funny that you thought you needed it."

"Growing up in a convent doesn't make me a nun," she stated.

Amon crossed the room slowly, and she froze, unable to move or speak. When he was a step away from her she stopped his advance by placing both hands on his chest. They stood there for a minute, neither moving. Then he kissed her.

She kissed him back immediately, passionately, for a long time. Then he wrapped his arms around her, and she rested her chin on his shoulder, and knew everything was going to work out.

Then a dark shape welled up in the window, something too shadowed to make out, too sinister to comprehend. It pushed its way inside.

A barn owl cried out as if in warning, its screech tearing through the darkness.

"Amon!"

She started awake, and wasn't sure if she'd really shouted his name or only dreamed it. She listened to night sounds for several minutes. Finally she got out of bed and listened at the thin folding screen that separated her from him.

Her heart eased when she heard him breathing rhythmically in his sleep. It was just a dream. Not the first dream she'd had about kissing him, and not her first nightmare by far. It was the coincidence of the owl, perhaps, that had made it seem significant. Owls were an ancient symbol of witchcraft.

* * *

It was a dim, rainy day. Robin had said she wouldn't mind saving the excursion for another day, but Amon said she had been stuck in their isolated cottage long enough. And, honestly, Robin didn't mind the rain, especially because it meant walking next to Amon under his umbrella.

They stopped under the eave of Crane Harbor and Amon shook off the umbrella, then they stepped inside the tea shop.

"Welcome," the hostess said.

"Manharu, good morning," Amon greeted her.

Manharu stared at Robin for a moment. "So this is the girl," she whispered before making a bow. "It's an honor to meet you, Robin."

At the note of almost reverence in her voice, Amon realized this woman was a Witch. He wasn't surprised.

"You too," Robin replied, seeming to fumble for the appropriate response.

"Come this way, please."

The hostess led them to a private tea room. When she pulled aside the curtain, they found Yuji Kobari sitting at the table.

"Master!" Robin exclaimed.

He rose and they embraced. "I have been missing you," he said softly, with paternal affection.

Amon looked away, feeling like he was intruding on their reunion, but at the same time pleased at having arranged it.

"This is the special thing you had planned for me?" Robin asked Amon.

"Yes," he said simply.

The smile she gave him warmed his heart.

They all sat at the table.

"I hope your accommodations aren't too uncomfortable," Yuji said.

"We are quite comfortable. Thank you."

"I'm sure your days have been frightfully dull."

"Not dull at all. It's been...peaceful."

Yuji smiled, and looked at Amon. "I hope she's been keeping out of trouble."

"There's been no trouble," he said.

"It must be a strange thing, perhaps a frustrating thing, to hide instead of hunt."

Amon shook his head. "As Robin said, it has been peaceful. I have been enjoying it."

Master gave him a questioning look, like he knew there was something troubling that peace.

"How is everyone back home?" Robin asked.

"They are doing well, but they miss you. Everyone misses you."

Manharu brought a pot of gyokuro tea to their table, along with an array of wagashi.

The guests conversed quietly. Of the three of them, not one was given to exuberance, but their genuine interest in one another's lives kept the conversation flowing.

When Robin excused herself to the restroom, Yuji took the opportunity to ask Amon, "Is it difficult for you, leaving behind your life to protect her?"

"No," he answered.

"Are you happy, with her?"

Amon wasn't sure how to answer that. He was there to make sure if Robin was corrupted by her power she wouldn't live long enough to use it against humans. He was to be her judge and executioner. It was his duty, and he wouldn't let himself forget that. At the same time, he was fond of her, fonder than he would admit, and Yuji knew it.

"Yes I am," he said.

"I suppose in a way this is the first vacation you've ever had. Have you talked to her?"

"I talk to her every day."

"But have you really talked to her? Have you told her how you feel? Have you at least told her why you became a hunter?"

The answer to those questions was no.

"You have given up so much," Yuji said. "You must know there are others who love her and can protect her."

"It has to be me."

"I know why you believe that, but I don't agree with it."

Robin returned to the table. "What are you discussing?" she inquired.

"Nothing important."

She smiled softly, knowing they were lying but not about to pry. "Master, I haven't thanked you yet for the birthday gift you sent me. I have been practicing calligraphy. I'm no good at it yet, but I find the practice very relaxing."

"I'm so glad you enjoy it. What have you been writing?"

"So far I've only been copying poetry."

Their conversation continued for over an hour, then Amon and Robin took their leave.

"It was so good to see you, Master," Robin said. "I hope I can see you again soon."

"I would like that. I hope to come visit you at the cottage, if I can."

As Robin walked out, Amon bowed to Yuji and whispered, "Thank you."

"Thank you. And I apologize for what I said before. There is no one I would rather have as her protector than you. I know in my heart that killing her will never be necessary, and I know you would never kill her unless it was necessary."


	5. The Haunting

Chapter 5  
The Haunting

The night was dark. The wind howled eerily through the trees.

Amon had just gotten out of the bath, and he was getting ready to shave. Robin was in the bathroom. The folding screen flickered with the light of the fire behind it as Robin used her power to heat the bathwater.

The corner of Amon's lips flicked into a smile.

It was true, what he'd told Yuji: he was happy here, with Robin.

Would he be able to kill her if the time came?

He could. He swore to himself that he could. He had to.

The orange flickering of the fire stopped, and he heard the water slosh as Robin climbed into the tub.

He found it hard to imagine Robin ever becoming corrupted by her power. But it could happen, someday. He would never let his guard down. He would never abandon her.

Maybe he should tell her about his past, about his feelings.

No. He couldn't. He might have to hunt Robin someday. She couldn't know his vulnerabilities.

On the other hand...

An extra violent gust of wind rattled the cottage. It sounded like some terrible creature trying to force its way in.

He saw a shadow move in his mirror.

He spun around, holding his razor like a knife. He saw nothing.

Slowly stepping sideways, he fished his gun out of the inner pocket of his coat.

There was a sudden sharp pain in his shoulder. He looked down to see if he was bleeding. He wasn't.

He looked back up just as a dark blur launched itself at him.

With a startled grunt, he fell back and rolled out of the way. The basin crashed to the floor, spilling water across a tatami mat.

"You," he breathed.

"Always."

* * *

At the sound of a crash from Amon's room, Robin jumped out of the bath and threw on her yukata. She opened the screen door in a rush.

A black-clad woman with wild sandy brown hair and a face full of fury was choking Amon, holding him to the floor.

"No!"

Robin raised her hand and a tongue of fire burst between the woman and Amon. The stranger drew back, and sent a glare of hatred in Robin's direction.

"No," she stated coldly, like she was denying her permission to interfere.

Dark coils entered the room, slithering through cracks and out of shadows. They sprang toward both Robin and Amon.

Without conscious choice, Robin's counter-attack was directed against the threats to Amon. But the tendrils of darkness were unaffected by her fireballs. And the room was getting blurry. Without her glasses, using her power caused Robin to lose focus and depth perception.

She saw the blond woman go after Amon again. She lauched a spear of fire at her; burning down the cottage was a risk she couldn't think about at the moment.

She heard Amon cry out in pain, but the woman retreated, hopping backward into the shadowy corner of the room.

The tendrils of darkness were gone.

Robin, a ball of fire crackling in her hand, advanced to where the woman had gone.

Then she stopped. The fire fizzled out. The stranger had disappeared. There was no door or window in the corner of the room, nothing she could hide behind, but Robin couldn't see her. She was gone like she was never there.

After a moment, Robin turned around to face Amon, who was kneeling on the floor. She sprinted to him.

"Amon, are you hurt?"

"No." His voice sounded raspy and weak.

She looked at his neck, where the woman had been choking him. There was no sign of injury.

"My powers had no effect on that attack. What was it? That woman... She just vanished, like she was a ghost."

"Not a ghost," Amon muttered.

He was pressing one hand to his bare chest. There was a red mark there from when a stray lick of flame had gone off course.

"I burned you!" Robin said in horror. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine."

She touched his hand that covered the burn, and gently pried it away to get a look at it. It was just a first-degree burn. It wasn't serious, but it must have been painful.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated. Her eyes flicked over him, looking for any other injuries. She saw the wound on his shoulder. The skin around it looked puffy. "Was this…" She gently prodded around the puncture.

Amon snatched her hand away abruptly. She looked at him with confusion. "I'm sorry."

He just looked back at her, but his hand slowly slackened and he released hers.

"You said that wasn't a ghost. Who was she? A Witch?"

He shook his head.

"We should leave. We're not safe here."

That roused him, and he stood up and rubbed his head. "No. We're as safe here as we will be anywhere."

"I don't understand."

He said nothing, and looked away.

"Amon, you know I trust you completely. If you say we're safe here, I believe you. But please, just tell me, what's going on?"

"Tomorrow," he said. "Let's talk in the morning."


	6. Stricken

Chapter 6  
Stricken

Robin did not sleep for much of the night. After sprinkling salt in the shape of protective runes in the corners of the cottage, she sat up on her futon, her glasses in her hand.

The runes would limit her own power but stave off attacks from outside. There had been no more disturbances, and from the silence coming from Amon's room he seemed to be asleep.

That troubled her. If Amon knew who or what had attacked him, why wouldn't he tell her? It hurt to think that no matter how much she trusted him, he would never trust her. Perhaps he couldn't trust anyone.

Robin woke up at the first light of dawn and scolded herself for falling asleep. She had only meant to rest her eyes for a minute.

She didn't see or hear Amon, so she peeked into his room and saw he was sleeping. He was usually up earlier than she was.

Robin circled the cottage, searching by the light of the newly risen sun for any footprints besides their own. There were none. She went back inside and began boiling some water to make coffee and oatmeal.

She turned at the sound of a door sliding open and froze at the sight of Amon with his gun raised.

"Amon?"

"I'm sorry." He lowered the gun. "I thought I heard something outside."

"That was me," she said. "I was taking a look around. I'm making breakfast."

He said nothing.

She poured two spoonfuls of ground coffee and some hot water in a French press. Then she joined him at the table.

They ate breakfast and drank the coffee in a tense silence. Then Robin asked, "Amon, if something were wrong you would tell me, right?"

"Yes," he answered after a moment.

"Is something wrong?"

"I don't know."

"I'm sorry about causing so much trouble. I know hiding out with me away from everyone is not what you would choose..."

"No. I did choose this. What happened last night had nothing to do with you."

"What is it, then? What attacked us last night? Who attacked you?"

"I don't know."

She gaped at him. He was lying. She knew he was lying. She stood up, hurt and angry. "You trusted me as a partner once," she said before stalking out the door.

She had it in mind to leave, to just keep walking into the forest, into the mountains, with no destination but away from Amon. But in the yard, in the fragrance of the newly blossoming cherry trees, she realized if whatever had attacked came back while she was gone and something happened to Amon, she would never forgive herself.

So she sat under the cherry tree, picking fallen blossoms from the ground, plucking the petals off them, and incinerating them one by one. The concentration needed to create the tiny fires was calming to her, cathartic.

Amon appeared at the door, watching her. She stood, dropping a handful of blossoms, and walked up to him. "When you met me, I was a child," she said. "A well-trained and skilled witch hunter, but still a child. I relied on you. I deferred to your opinion. When I was alone, afraid to show my face because I was being hunted by Solomon, I wished so many times that you were there to tell me what I should do. But I'm not a child anymore." Her voice hardened. "I'm a Witch. Whyever you think it's best to leave me in the dark, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's happening. You don't need to protect me."

"You're right," he said. "I do want to protect you, but that's not why I didn't tell you."

"Why, then?"

"I can't ask you for help. If something happens to me, you'll need to run. You'll need to protect yourself."

She shook her head. "I would never leave you behind. I'm afraid of the same thing you're afraid of: becoming dangerous because of my power. I'm relying on you to kill me if I reach that point. I need you."

Amon stared at her with an intense but unreadable expression. He reached out and touched her cheek. "Robin. Sometimes I wonder..."

"Wonder what?" she asked when he trailed off.

"You asked me if I've ever been in love."

There was a sound in the forest behind her, a rustling in the trees of something more solid than the wind. Amon's eyes rose from her face to the forest and a look of horror came into them. She whirled around.

There was a shadow there, the shadow of something enormous and lurking.

"It's here!" Robin exclaimed.

"Because of me," Amon stated.

Robin put on her glasses and prepared to attack, even though, since fire had proven ineffective against the previous night's attack, she didn't know what exactly she could do.

"Go. It's not a threat to you," Amon said.

"If it's a threat to you it's a threat to me."

The shadow moved closer. She still couldn't make out what it was. She formed a fireball above her hand and waited vigilantly.

"Ugh!" Amon grunted in pain and clutched at his shoulder. He doubled over, falling to his knees.

"Amon!" She turned away from the beast in the forest and dropped to his side.

He attempted to struggle to his feet. Robin caught him before he could fall. She supported his tall frame and helped him back to the door of the cottage. Glancing behind them over her shoulder, she saw with confusion that whatever had been there seemed to be gone.


	7. The Message

Chapter 7  
The Message

Robin had surrounded the cottage with every protective rune she knew, but she felt as though what she feared was already inside.

Amon would not wake up. She had brought him to his bed. He had spoken a few delirious words that didn't seem to be directed at her before losing consciousness. His sleep, if it could be called that, was not restful. He would occasionally wince, twitch, or cry out. It was as if he were having a nightmare he couldn't wake himself from.

Robin sat by him. Remembering the previous night, she checked the mark on his shoulder, where he'd been struck by the Orbo bullet three weeks ago.

The skin was strangely pale around it. It looked like a white octopus spreading its tentacles beneath his skin away from the entrance wound.

"Amon…" she stroked his forehead and hair, hoping he would get some comfort from her touch. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me something was wrong?"

He didn't answer, of course, and she didn't know what else to do. For a moment, she felt like a child again, lost and helpless.

"But I'm not," she said to herself out loud. "I'm going to help you, Amon. But I can't do it by hiding here."

She went to the door, looked back once, and left.

* * *

When Robin stepped through the door of Crane Harbor, the tea shop was empty.

"Hello? Excuse me?"

Manharu entered from another room and smiled. "Robin, welcome back."

"I'm sorry to come to you, but I need help, and I didn't know where else to go. Amon is sick."

"Sick?"

"Manharu, you're a Witch, aren't you?"

She hesitated for only a second before saying, "Yes."

"What's your power?"

"Nothing impressive. I can manipulate water. I can create pure water from thin air, turn water into ice, boil water."

Nothing that would help her now, Robin thought.

"I think his sickness might have to do with witchcraft. Actually, with Witch Hunters. I need to get in touch with someone. Can you get me in touch with Master, with Yuji Kobari?"

"I can send him a message," Manharu said, looking concerned. "But not directly. It may take some time to hear back from him."

Robin nodded. It was better than nothing. She couldn't risk calling Karasuma without tipping off the STN that she was still alive, which could put Amon in greater danger.

* * *

Karasuma walked into Harry's and took a seat at the bar.

"Miss Karasuma," Yuji greeted her. "Thanks for coming."

"You said you have information on the location of a witch," she whispered.

"I do. Robin." He handed her a slip of paper with the GPS coordinates of the old cottage.

"This is where you put them?" she asked quietly. "You said it would be better that I didn't know."

"I got a message from Robin," Yuji said. "She says Amon is ill. He seems to be in some kind of coma. She says she believes it's caused by Orbo."

"Orbo?" Karasuma repeated.

Yuji nodded gravely. "She asks for your help if you can give it. She's afraid he's dying."

Amon dying? It was unbelievable. It had been three weeks since he'd been shot with Orbo. Why would it take so long for its effects to manifest?

The Factory had told them Orbo incapacitated Witches but left them unharmed, but the Factory had lied to them about a lot of things.

"Tell her I'll be there as soon as I can. Tomorrow. Tell her I'll be there tomorrow." That would give her time to come up with an excuse to disappear from the office, and see what she could find out about the effects of Orbo.

Yuji nodded. Karasuma could tell how worried he was.

"Don't worry. He's Amon; he'll pull through. And we'll do everything we can for him."

* * *

"I got a return message. Karasuma will come tomorrow."

Manharu's voice startled Robin, and she spilled some of the cold tea in the cup she'd been holding. She had been waiting in a back room of Crane Harbor.

"Tomorrow?" A look of despair crossed her face. In a moment, it gave way to one of resignation. "I suppose that's the best I could hope for. I just wish I knew what to do. I feel so helpless. I'm supposed to be such a powerful Witch, but I don't even know how to save my friend."

Manharu sat down next to her. "When my mother was killed by Hunters, it became my job to take care of my younger brother. I did the best I could, but then my own power awakened, and at first I couldn't control it. Water would just appear wherever I went, like my own private rainstorm. I was terrified I'd be discovered by Hunters and killed. I was told to go to an ancient Witch called Methuselah."

"Methuselah?"

"Yes. She helped me accept my power, and by accepting it as a part of myself and not trying to push it away, I gained control of it. Methuselah possessed knowledge of Witchcraft going back thousands of years, the knowledge of thousands of Witches. When she needed to access it, she would meditate, turn her thoughts inward. She had the knowledge, but not ready at any moment; it was hidden deep in her memories, like books in a library. It was called the Craft Arcanum. The rumor is, when she died, Methuselah passed that knowledge on to someone else. If you can find that Witch, I'm sure she could find a way to save Amon."

Did she know she was talking to that very Witch? Robin wondered.


	8. Orbo Lesson

Chapter 8 Orbo Lesson

Dojima was just about to go home for the night when Karasuma caught her.

"Dojima, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Of course. What is it?"

Karasuma fell into step beside her. "How much do you know about Orbo?" She asked in a confidential tone.

"Well, with the Factory's records, we know a lot more than we did before. Why? What do you want to know?"

"I know it was harvested from the DNA of the Witches kept at the Factory. How was it harvested?"

"It's a segment of DNA common to all Witches. Actually, it's a repeating sequence. All Witches have at least one copy of it. The scientists at the Factory weren't able to replicate it, so they manufactured it from the blood of live Witches."

"How did it work?"

"It's kind of complicated to explain," Dojima said, wondering why Karasuma was suddenly so interested. Something seemed to be bothering her.

"Try."

They walked through the front door into golden evening light.

"Okay. Like I said, all Witches have this DNA sequence. It absorbs the raw power a Witch produces and turns it into power they can utilize. How and even whether their power manifests is partly genetic and partly environmentally determined. But anyway, by cutting out the rest of the genome and purifying the DNA sequence that absorbs power...when a Witch is injected with a serum containing just those strands of DNA, it overwhelms the raw power the Witch is producing, absorbing the power faster than they can produce it."

"I can't believe I used to think you were an airhead."

"I worked hard to make you think that," Dojima replied, not sounding at all offended.

"Did the Orbo survive once it was injected into a Witch? We were warned to call in the Factory as soon as possible after incapacitating a Witch in case the Orbo wore off. Did it really wear off?"

"It depends on the Witch. The more powerful the Witch, the more energy they produce. At some point the Orbo reaches its limit and becomes denatured. Basically, it falls apart. But for weak Witches, the Orbo could survive long enough to circulate in their bloodstream, where, if the DNA was compatible, it could be absorbed by the Witch's own cells like a virus, which served to put their powers back to sleep, so to speak, turning an awakened Witch back into just a Seed."

"What effect did Orbo have on humans? Why did it cause side effects when regular humans used it? And why were Hunters able to use it?"

"So you know it weakened Hunters' powers. That's because even outside a body, it absorbed their energy, though at a much lower rate. For regular humans who don't produce that energy... This is actually just speculation; the Factory scientists developed some hypotheses based on the symptoms, but they didn't know for sure because Zaizen decided testing Orbo on humans in a laboratory setting would be unethical."

"Huh!" Karasuma scoffed at that. "So what was their theory?"

"Emotions. Even with Witches, the magical energy they produce is so connected to emotional energy, the DNA sequence uses both. That's why a heightened emotional state can make a Witch's powers go haywire. When a regular human is exposed to Orbo, with no magical energy to feed on, the Orbo goes after emotional energy exclusively. It's way more aggressive than just absorbing emotional energy; the Orbo can basically pry open a human's psyche to go after the energy it wants to absorb, causing instant terror, paranoia, despair. Of the humans who fell victim to the side effects, some killed themselves, some attacked their companions, some are still alive in hospitals, in comas or suffering from mental breakdowns. Some do recover, though. Not many."

"Zaizen said the Orbo he tried to shoot Robin with was the purest Orbo they had made. What would make it a pure sample?"

"I would guess that it would have the highest concentration of the DNA sequence that absorbs energy with the least amount of extraneous DNA they could get. It would make it more effective at absorbing energy, and because it would be less likely for a Witch's body to reject it, it would be more likely to be absorbed into the Witch's cells and permanently disable their powers."

"What would happen to a Hunter injected with Orbo?"

"I don't know," Dojima answered. "It might depend on how much power they produce whether they react like regular humans or Witches. They might be somewhere between the two. It might even depend on how much power they're producing or what their reserves are at the moment, or even their emotional state." She bit her lip, then asked, "Does this have anything to do with Amon?"

"No," Karasuma replied, but the lie was so clear in her voice it might as well have been a yes. "I'm just curious."


	9. The Craft Arcanum

Chapter 9  
The Craft Arcanum

Robin returned to the cottage to find Amon in the same state she'd left him in: a troubled sleep from which he couldn't be woken.

As darkness fell, Robin lit some candles around him. That seemed to calm him slightly.

She sat beside him and just looked at him. "Meditate. I need to meditate. The Craft Arcanum is inside me. I just need to find it."

She went to her own room and sat in the dark, closed her eyes, and tried to clear her mind.

"God help me," she prayed.

Several minutes went by. She focused on her breathing. She lost track of the passage of time.

 _Methuselah_ , she called into the mists of her mind. _Why did you give me this power if it can't be used for good?_

"It can be used for good," Methuselah answered, appearing from the fog. She simultaneously appeared as the old woman and a young woman near Robin's age, as if there were two people occupying one space, speaking the same words. "All power can be used for good or for evil. It's most often when you use it to benefit yourself that it becomes evil."

"I don't care about any of that right now. I just want to save Amon."

"But you still partly believe that power necessarily corrupts, that anyone with a Witch's power becomes evil. How can you listen to the wisdom of the Witches of the Ages if you will not trust a Witch's heart?"

"I will."

"You don't even trust your own Witch's heart."

It was true. She didn't.

"If you don't tell me how to save him, I will never trust Witches."

"It's not what I can tell you, it's what you will hear."

"Just tell me," Robin begged. "If Witch power can save Amon, just tell me how."

Methuselah's face softened in sympathy. "It's not so simple. But let's see what we can do. Show him to us."

Robin turned, and Amon appeared before her. He was lying on his futon, candles burning around him. Instead of walls, darkness spread out in every direction, and in that darkness were hundreds of people. Witches. They wore a variety of clothes, most of them very old-fashioned. Their faces reflected every race in the world. At their forefront was Methuselah.

"This is always the way," said a young woman with a British accent in Victorian-era dress. "Humans despise us and persecute us until they have a problem they believe Witchcraft can solve, then comes the begging, the apologies, the promises."

"This man is a Hunter," said an elderly man in ancient shepherd dress. "He is a persecutor and murderer of Witches, a traitor to his own flesh. Why should we even try to save him?"

"Because he has changed," Robin declared. "He was ordered to hunt me, ordered to kill me, and he didn't. He protected me."

"But he has killed so many other Witches. Saving one doesn't undo his crimes."

Robin didn't know what she could say to argue against that. She could claim that once the STN-J started using Orbo, Amon didn't kill Witches, only captured them, but he captured them to deliver them to a fate worse than death. She could say he only hunted Witches who were a danger to humans and other Witches, but they had hunted any Witch they thought might become dangerous, which had included Witches with strong powers even if they showed no indication of using them for evil.

They should save him because he was Amon, was all Robin could think.

"I am a Hunter too," she declared. "I too have killed my own kind, both Witches and Hunters. And yet I was entrusted with the Craft Arcanum. I have been told I am also the Eve of Witches, the Hope of Witches. I'm not sure yet what that means, what I am to do. You should save Amon because..." She looked down at him.

 _Trust your Witch heart..._

"Because I love him."

After a moment, Methuselah knelt next to Amon. She placed a hand on his forehead, and another on his chest. A few of the others came up to examine him. One, a dark-skinned woman in a long black robe and blue headscarf, shook her head sadly. A man with long black hair and beard adorned with feathers touched him and shuddered.

"This is the new scourge of Witches, the poison that robs us of our strength and spirit. It has taken root in him. We have no spells to counter this."

"Nothing?" Robin whimpered. "All the powers of the Craft Arcanum, and there's nothing to save him?"

"This poison would suck up any power we might use against it."

"But there has to be some way to stop it. Orbo doesn't stop Craft spells. Isn't there any spell to help?"

"The power of the Craft comes from knowledge. We don't know this evil. You may need to create a new spell, using what you know of runecraft, to counter it. Even if the way is unknown, there always is a way."

"I don't have time," Robin despaired.

"I can help." A young girl in the dress of an ancient Egyptian stepped forward from the twilight. "I know a spell to slow time. If you cast it on your beloved, a day would become as a heartbeat to him. Be he dying, it will preserve his life long enough for you to find a way to undo the curse on him."

"Teach it to me," Robin implored.

* * *

When Robin awoke from her trance, she immediately set about gathering the ingredients she needed: flowers, flame, rice, and rainwater. The girl, Neferdeshret, said water from tears worked better, but it couldn't be the caster's tears, and Robin didn't know where she could get someone else's, whereas rainwater was something she had on hand.

The runes required for the spell were ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics, not the Elder Futhark and Ogham she was familiar with. It took her a few tries to get the glyphs right. She set up the ingredients around Amon: the sprig of cherry blossoms at his head represented springtime and morning; the candle at his left signified summer and noon; the rice she scattered at his feet stood for the harvest, and therefore autumn, and she arranged the grains in the shapes of current early evening constellations; the rainwater, representing the cold of winter and the darkness of midnight, was in a vase at his right. Between them, in a circle, were the hieroglyphs encoding a slowing of the passage of time.

She lit the candle to complete the circle and activate the spell.

The candle flickered for a moment, then its movement slowed and slowed until it almost seemed frozen.

Robin looked at Amon. He didn't seem to be breathing or moving at all.

All she would need to do to break the spell would be to blow the candle out. When the candle burned down, the spell would break on its own, but that could take years.

Now that the spell was cast, nothing else entering the circle would be affected by it. She carefully stepped into the circle and knelt next to Amon.

When she'd admitted she loved him, it had felt like the truest thing she'd ever said.

"My beloved," she whispered. "If with all my power I can't even save you, I shouldn't live. If my powers can't be used for good, and you aren't here to keep me from becoming evil, I will not go on living." She kissed his forehead, then stroked his hair, gazing at his face. "Don't die, Amon," she pleaded. "Please don't die."


	10. The Consultation

Chapter 10  
The Consultation

Karasuma finally found the small cottage tucked away in the forest, amidst a scattering of other, more dilapidated cottages of what had once been a mountain hamlet. It was the only cottage that looked livable, and a cherry tree next to the front door was in full blossom. It presented a charming picture. It looked tranquil.

"Robin?" she called at the door.

"Yes, I'm here. Just a moment."

She heard a latch lift, then the door opened.

Robin's hair was loose and tangled. She wore the lavender yukata Karasuma had sent her as a birthday gift.

"How is he?" Karasuma asked.

"He's..." Her voice was tight and small. "Miho, I don't know what to do."

"Is he...?"

"He's alive, for now. For..." Robin grabbed her arm and pulled her inside, and barred the door behind them.

"He...passed out," Robin said. She was extremely tired and having trouble remembering the right words. "If he knew the Orbo was...hurting him, he didn't tell me. Why wouldn't he tell me?"

"He wouldn't want you to worry," Karasuma said. "Or maybe he didn't want to admit it to himself."

Robin had led her into Amon's room. Karasuma froze, staring at Amon and the Craft symbols around him.

"What did you do to him?"

"A spell to slow the passage of time for him, to give me time to find a way to help him."

"This is..." _Terrifying_ , she wanted to say, looking over the hieroglyphics and wondering what they meant. "...advanced Craft. I've never seen anything like it."

"It's desperate. I didn't know what else to do, but I couldn't just let Amon die. If you think I've grown too powerful, please just help me save Amon first."

"I can't condemn you for using your power to save Amon," Karasuma said. "You look exhausted. Have you slept?"

"Not much. I had to be ready in case we were attacked again."

"Attacked? Master didn't say anything about an attack. What attacked you?"

"I'm not sure. A woman I've never seen before. A Witch, maybe, but she had powers I've never heard of. There were...dark shapes. Like blobs and tendrils. It was something like a monster. Then the woman disappeared, it was like she went right through the wall."

"Really?" Karasuma was just as perplexed as Robin.

"But Amon seemed to recognize her. They seemed to know each other."

"I don't know who she could have been. Moving through a wall is a power I've never heard of. But Amon has been with the STN-J longer than I have; it could be a Witch he encountered before. Did the attack cause this illness?"

"It came on after the second attack, the time when it was just the monster. I think it might have brought it on."

"But I thought it had to do with Orbo."

Robin pulled up Amon's sleeve to reveal his shoulder. "This is where he was shot by the Orbo bullet."

Karasuma recoiled at the sight of it: the skin around the scar where the dart entered was white with a blue tint, spreading outward across his shoulder and down his arm. "I see. Yesterday I asked Dojima what she knew about the Orbo, about how it worked and the effect it had on Witches and humans. She told me that Orbo was made from a DNA sequence that absorbs energy. In a living Witch it's combined with other genes to convert raw energy into the Witch's power, but on its own it absorbs all the energy it can, incapacitating the Witch. She said in some Witches, if the Orbo sample was genetically compatible, the Orbo can be absorbed into the Witch's own cells. She didn't know how it would affect a Hunter, but I think...I think that's what's happening to Amon. The Orbo survived in his body and now it's spreading, like a cancer."

"No! It's too horrible. How can we stop it? There must be a way."

"I don't know. Dojima said if a Witch was very powerful, the Orbo in their body would reach its capacity and fall apart. That explains how you were able to destroy the Orbo bullets Zaizen shot at you: your power was enough to burn out the Orbo before it reached you. But I don't know if your power could have any effect on the Orbo inside another person's body."

Robin thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. "Not without burning him."

"Better that than letting it consume him." A moment later, Karasuma said thoughtfully, "If he could somehow use his own power, if he could try, it might be enough to clear out the Orbo."

"Does he have power? I never saw him use it. And he never even talked about it. I asked him about it once, and it seemed to upset him."

"He always tried to avoid using his power. After we started hunting with Orbo, he never used it. Even before, he only used it a couple of times that I know of, only when his or someone else's life was in danger."

"What was his power?"

"He could create illusions. One time he made another Amon appear on the other side of the room, and the Witch didn't know which to attack."

Robin's eyes widened as realization struck her. "That's it!"

Karasuma looked at her curiously. "What?"

"When a person is infected with a virus, their body produces a fever to try to kill the virus. When the Orbo in Amon's body was absorbing his power, his body reacted by producing more power to try to burn the infection out. We weren't attacked at all; it was an illusion Amon was accidentally creating. He said it was there because of him. I misunderstood. I thought he meant it was after him, but what he meant was that he was creating it."

"And knowing Amon, he did everything he could to try to stop it."

Robin nodded. Then another thought occurred to her. "Miho...what did Kate look like?"

"Kate?"

"Amon's partner before me."

"She was tall, pretty, light brown hair. You think that was the woman you saw?"

"Yes. She had an accent. British, maybe."

"Australian? Kate was Australian."

"That could be it."

"If Amon is the one who hunted Kate, he must feel an incredible weight of guilt."

Robin recalled Amon coldly confirming that he had hunted his last partner. He hadn't sounded guilt-stricken. But with Amon it was hard to know what he was feeling.

"We know how to save him now," she said. "I need to wake him up and get him to use his power until the Orbo breaks up."

"If he's powerful enough to overcome it. I'm not sure he is," Karasuma said. "And Orbo doesn't just absorb Witch power; it also goes after psychological and emotional energy. If it activated his power, it may also have been affecting his psychological state, and I don't know what effect that will have on the Orbo. Amon has always been...very emotionally controlled. I don't know if that helps him or hurts him against the Orbo."

Robin thought of the way Amon had touched her cheek before he lost consciousness.

 _You asked me if I've ever been in love._

Had he said that because of some effect Orbo was having on him?

Karasuma looked down sadly at Amon. "I have to get back. If I'm gone for more than a day it could arouse suspicion. I brought you something." She handed Robin a cell phone. "A prepaid phone, completely untraceable. I've programmed my number into it. If I learn anything else, I'll call you. If Amon recovers or...anything else, call me and let me know."

"I will. Thank you. I'll never forget this."


	11. The Breach

Chapter 11  
The Breach

After several hours of sleep and a hearty meal, Robin felt up to a second attempt at tapping into the Craft Arcanum.

She entered into a trance more quickly this time, as if now her mind knew the way to go.

"Methuselah, I need to talk to you," she said into the vastness.

The old Witch appeared beside her. "Is there no rest even for the dead?" She joked.

"You awaken the powers of other Witches. I need to know how to do that. I need Amon to use his power."

"Has he awoken?"

"No. Is that a problem?"

"Yes. And not your only one. You can't force a Witch to use their power if they are unwilling."

"You used my power to end your own life, which I was not willing to do," Robin argued.

"And is that something you would force on anyone else?"

"No."

"Exactly. _You_ could not do it, not even to save the life of your love."

"Then I just need to wake him up so I can convince him to use his power to destroy the Orbo."

"But he can't wake up until the Orbo is destroyed."

"So what can I do? There must be something."

Methuselah thought, then nodded slowly. "This is a battle that is raging in Amon's heart. If you wish to help him, that is where you must go."

"Amon's heart?"

"His heart, his soul, his dreams, his subconscious. You must enter it. I can teach you the Craft, but it will be dangerous. The heart is a strange place. Not everything will be as it seems, and you may very well learn truths you will not like knowing, about him and about yourself. The soul cannot lie. You will be powerless, and if he dies while you are in his mind, you will be lost in darkness forever, cut off from your body, unable to live or die."

"I don't care. If there is any chance it can save him, I'll do it."

"I thought so."

* * *

Robin had to clear away the Craft that slowed the passage of time in order to cast the next one. As soon as she snuffed out the candle, Amon gasped, and for a moment Robin hoped he would awake, but he didn't. She tried shaking his arm. "Amon, wake up. Please wake up."

But he didn't, though he constantly seemed to be on the verge of awakening.

Robin knew she had to move quickly; the more the Orbo spread inside him, the less chance they had of destroying it.

There were a number of languages used to write Craft spells. It held exponentially more power if it was a dead language. Dead languages belonged to the world of spirits, and so could be used to manipulate the unseen forces of the world.

When Robin had first started learning the Craft, it had been from on old book written mostly in Latin. It was a forbidden book, a copy of one said to be destroyed hundreds of years before. She had access to it only as part of her specialized training as a Witch Hunter.

There had been a thrill of excitement the first time she created a Craft spell. There was none of that now.

This Craft was written using Sumerian Cuneiform, a language she didn't know. She had painted the glyphs on her hand while still in the trance, and she could only pray she'd gotten them right as she copied them onto the floor around Amon, taking care to stay within their circumference as she painted them.

When she was done, she knelt above Amon and prayed. She prayed for success and forgiveness. Then she spoke the mantra she'd been told in an ancient tongue she didn't understand.

Immediately as she spoke the last word, her body went limp and she fell. Her head fell onto Amon's chest, but she kept on falling, tumbling dizzily, falling through a silver mirror that splashed and rippled like the surface of a pool, falling into a dark place.


	12. Into the Dark

Chapter 12  
Into the Dark

Robin didn't know where she was. It was dark and cold and lonely. Oppressively, chokingly lonely. Was this the eternal darkness Methuselah had warned her of? It couldn't possibly be Amon's soul.

A loud, slow thrum almost like the peal of thunder rumbled across the darkness, and was gone.

"Amon!" she shouted. "Amon, it's me. Please be here."

A second rumbling was the only answering sound, this one slightly softer than the last and not as deep.

The darkness drifted apart like stormclouds. Robin walked on.

Another paired set of distant thunder claps reverberated through the ground.

There was, in front of her, a mirror, a mirror dark like tarnished silver. She walked toward her own reflection, dressed in her black dress with her wild hair pulled up in the double pigtails she usually wore. She reached out to touch the mirror, and her hand went right through it. She walked through it and found herself surrounded by a kaleidoscope of her own images, hundreds of Robins. A hall of mirrors. It was brighter here than where she had come from, and warmer, but it was still lonely.

Another loud thrumming shook the ground, and she realized what it was: a heartbeat, slowed to a fraction of its natural pace. Could that mean time was moving differently here?

As she contemplated the question, she heard another faint sound.

"Robin!"

She turned. The distant call had unmistakably been Amon's voice, but it had been desperate and frightened.

"Amon! I'm here! Help me find you."

With no response, she ran in the direction she thought Amon's voice had come from.

She found herself in what she first thought was a labyrinth, but then she recognized it as the hallway leading out of Harry's. She walked down it slowly, and someone approached, walking in the other direction. A beautiful girl.

Herself. But there was no flicker of recognition.

This was Amon's memory, she realized. His memory of the moment they first saw each other. She was feeling what he felt, hearing his thoughts.

Their eyes lingered on each other as they passed. "Beautiful girl," he thought. There was no possessive impulse, no desire, no inkling of ever seeing her again. "A remarkably beautiful girl," was all he thought, even as her eyes followed him. And then she was out of sight and out of mind. He was preoccupied with concern over the replacement Hunter who would be coming, a Craft user. A replacement for Kate, his last partner. The partner he'd hunted.

She was in Amon's mind, Robin recalled. He was everywhere here, and she couldn't find him by running. Physical force, physical movement, was meaningless here. But what wouldn't be? What kind of power could move the soul?

Poetry. The answer came to her mind. She recalled something she'd read in the _Kokinshu_ , one of the books of poetry Amon had brought her: "It is poetry which, with only a part of its power, moves heaven and earth, pacifies unseen gods and demons, reconciles men and women and calms the hearts of savage warriors."

She thought of the day she'd met Amon. She had gone to Raven's Flat looking for him. He wore black. He always wore black. She wore black, too, but with Amon's black hair it had an overall darker effect. The way he kept to himself, even the way he moved, reminded her of a raven. Some people considered ravens to be birds of ill omen, but Robin had always felt a fondness for them, perhaps exactly because they were so generally unloved.

Perhaps that was why she loved Amon.

She thought of a stanza from the poem "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird" by the American poet Wallace Stevens. She spoke it aloud, giving the words to the void.

"Among twenty snowy mountains,  
The only moving thing  
Was the eye of the blackbird."

The walls and mirrors whirled away, and Robin was surrounded by snowy mountains. The wind whipped up wisps of snow, and the sky above the mountains was the color of loneliness.

The wind carried Amon's voice to her, soft, intimate, like he was talking to himself:

"The cry of the stag  
Is so loud in the empty  
Mountains that an echo  
Answers him as though  
It were a doe."

Robin didn't recognize the poem, but knew Amon was talking about himself. He had heard her, but didn't believe she was really there.

A poem from the _Wakan Roei Shu_ came to her.

"The spring mists share back and forth  
their colors before our blinds;  
the dawn wavelets secretly divide  
their sounds to both our pillows."

His response was immediate, quoted from the same book.

"Where is it  
That the mists of spring are rising?  
Here in the mountains of beautiful Yoshino  
the snow continues to fall."

She responded with a poem from the _Tale of Genji_.

"And were you to move to deepest Yoshino,  
I still would find you, through unceasing snow."

Though the gloom did not abate and snow continued to fall, she suddenly knew which way to go, and set off in the direction her heart told her would bring her to Amon.

She heard his voice again.

"In a hut to the south and east of Miyako I dwell;  
The place is known as the Hill of the World of Gloom."

And, after searching her memory for a long moment for the most appropriate poem, one that could complete the spell, she said:

"Though cruel the world may be, it is, alas,  
A flower no mountains are deep enough to hide."

The snowflakes became pure white pear blossoms, millions of them, falling from dark, twisted trees covering the mountainside.

Amon was there, among the flowers, among the dark trees.

She ran to him. "Amon!" She threw her arms around him.

He didn't return her embrace. He pulled away and just looked at her. He looked confused.

"I found you," Robin breathed.

"Were you looking for me?" he asked.

"Yes, of course."

"I'm looking for someone too," he said, sounding perplexed.

"Who?"

"A woman. Her name is Robin."

She stared at him. Why didn't he recognize her? What did she look like here? "Amon, I'm..." She stopped. She couldn't say it. She couldn't say her own name. "I'm the one you're looking for," she said instead.

"You do seem familiar. Have we met?"

"Yes," she said, but found she still couldn't say her own name, and decided to take a different approach. "Tell me about her, the woman you're looking for."

"She's young, and small, with red-blond hair. Her eyes are green. She's gentle, and graceful. There's something about her that's...irresistible. To know her is to love her."

"Do you love her?" she dared to ask.

"Everyone loves her. She brings out the protective instincts in those around her. She's young, but she has been through so much. More than anyone should be asked to endure."

"Why are you looking for her?"

"I don't know where she is. I don't know what happened to her."

"Do you know where you are?"

He shook his head.

"You're dreaming. You need to wake up. And the way to do that is to use your power."

His head snapped toward her. "My power?"

"There is Orbo invading your body. It absorbs power, and when it gets enough, it breaks up. You need to use your power, use it enough to get rid of the Orbo."

"I'm not a Witch."

"But you are a Hunter," she pointed out.

He stiffened and turned away. "I will not use the power of a Witch."

"Would you rather die? Isn't that woman you're looking for a Witch?"

"She is different."

"Why is she different? Why can she use Witch power but you can't?"

"Because she is pure," he said. "Her heart is pure. I have done so much evil without using power, what would I be with it?"

"You would be the same Amon you are now. And most importantly you would be alive."

"That is not the most important thing."

"Power can be used for good. It can be used to heal, to fix what is broken. I talked to a Witch two days ago who can create water from thin air. When she was younger she traveled the world, going where there were droughts to bring water to poor villages, even though she was afraid it would draw the attention of Hunters to her. Power can be used for good, and I need you to use yours to save your own life. Think of...that woman you're looking for. She needs you. Do you think she could survive without you?"

"Yes," he stated unhesitantly. "She doesn't need me. She's strong. Powerful."

"Aren't you afraid she will become too powerful? That without you she may become addicted to her own power and become an unstoppable Witch?"

"No," he stated.

Robin frowned. What did he mean? "Do you love her?" she asked again.

He looked at the flowers, not at her, when he said, "Yes."

So he did love her. Under less dire circumstances she would have been elated. "Maybe she feels the same way about you."

"She can't," he said in sudden irritation. He looked at her like he just noticed she was there. "Who are you?"

"I am she. I'm the one you are looking for."

"You're lying!" He backed up a few steps, then turned, and ran.

And became a blackbird, a raven that flew up and disappeared into the clouds.

"Amon, no! I just found you; I can't lose you again!"

He was gone, and she was alone again.

Or had he ever been there at all? For Amon to love her was what she most deeply wished. Were her own dreams and desires manifesting here?

Could she find the true Amon? She knew so little about him, would she recognize his true nature?

Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted, "Amon!"

The name echoed into the mountains, echoed and re-echoed, full of longing.

The flowers and mountains drifted away, replaced by a dark room with a long table. At the other end of the table sat Zaizen.

Robin felt like screaming, but she couldn't scream or speak.

The table was dark wood, polished to a shine. The reflection she saw in the table was a teenage boy, perhaps sixteen, tall and lanky, with unkempt black hair. He was hunched over in his chair, and yet looked defiant.

She was in another memory, Robin realized.

"Do you know why you're here?" Zaizen asked.

"No clue," the boy replied with a show of nonchalance.

"It took us a while to find you. You're good at keeping yourself out of sight."

The boy said nothing, glaring at him suspiciously.

"The street gangs call you 'Amon'. What's your real name?"

"'Amon' works fine," he said coldly.

Zaizen nodded. "Amon, the supreme god of Ancient Egypt. Quite an exalted name you've chosen for yourself."

Amon shrugged.

"It means 'the hidden one'. What are you hiding from, Amon?"

"You tell me. You're the one who went through the trouble of tracking me down and dragging me in here."

Zaizen smiled with amusement. "You have a point. Do you know what an inquisition is?"

"Yeah. It's a religious trial to decide if someone's a heretic."

"That's one kind. My organization conducts another kind of inquisition, to decide if someone is a Witch."

That got the surly teen to straighten up, his eyes widening. "You know about Witches?"

"Yes. We hunt them, in fact. We were hunting one, a Witch who went by the name Berserker, who used his power to shake down shop owners and even criminals. We were recording him while we worked out our plan of attack, and we caught this."

He pointed a remote at a large screen on the wall. A recording began to play. It showed a short, skinny man holding a chain. He was standing in an alley, facing the young Amon. The two glared at each other for a moment, then Amon said something that made Berserker smirk. Then he rushed at the boy, running faster than any human should have been able to move, and hit him with the chain. Amon tried to duck out of the way, but still got a painful blow. He cowered on the ground. Berserker raised his chain for another strike, but at the same time a spider the size of a car materialized above him. Berserker turned and tried to fend off the monstrous creature, but the chain passed right through it and swung back to hit Berserker instead. The spider-monster vanished in an instant.

At that moment Amon jumped up and clasped his arm around Berserker's neck. The Witch swung his chain backward, hitting Amon as well as himself, but without much force. The teen kept his grip. He squeezed his arm around Berserker's neck, cutting off blood flow to his brain, until he lost consciousness and fell to the street. Amon didn't let go for several seconds, and when he did he flung away the chain, then started viciously kicking the unconscious Witch in the ribs and stomach.

"Did you just want to send a message, or were you trying to kill him?" Zaizen asked.

"Whichever."

"He would have died of internal bleeding if we hadn't picked him up shortly after this. You're lucky he wasn't rushed to the hospital. If he'd recovered, chances are you'd be dead by now."

"Maybe."

"What possessed you to pick a fight with a Witch?"

"He threatened someone I knew," Amon replied.

"A friend?"

"Someone I had obligations to. You wouldn't understand"

"And being a Witch yourself, you understood what you were up against."

Amon jerked to attention. "I'm not a Witch!"

"Then what do you call that power you used to make that spider appear with perfect timing?"

"It's just a trick I can do. It's nothing."

"It's power. That's a genetic trait. People with the potential to develop Witch power are called Seeds. Do you have any family or ancestors with Witch powers that you know of?"

"I have no family."

"You must have come from somewhere. What are your parents names? What is your surname?"

"Amon had no parents. He created himself from nothing."

"So that's why you chose that name."

His silence was an affirmative answer.

"Why do you hate Witches so much?" Zaizen inquired.

"They are heartless creatures disguised as humans. All they do is steal and worry about themselves and hurt people."

"What if we could wipe out Witches, so humans would be free from them forever?"

"Then you should."

"Would you help?"

Amon looked curious, but said nothing.

"Because," Zaizen continued, "with power like yours, if you're not a Witch, then you're a Witch Hunter."

"A Witch Hunter?"

"We would train you, arm you. You would work with other hunters to bring down Witches like Berserker. Are you interested?"

Amon was quiet for a moment, his expression inscrutable. Then he answered, "Yes."

Robin wasn't sure if she retreated from the memory or if it faded away from her. She didn't know if Amon was choosing to share these memories with her or if she was spying on his deepest secrets. But there were things here she had always wanted to know, things she had always hoped Amon would tell her.

"Who are you, Amon?" she wondered.

* * *

*Footnote

Sources of poems in order of quotation: Wallace Stevens "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird"; Otomo no Yakamochi, _Manyoshu_ 1802, trans. Kenneth Rexroth, from _100 Poems from the Japanese_ ; Tachibana no Naomoto, _Wakan Roei Shu_ 576, trans.J. Thomas Riber  & Jonathan Chaves; Anonymous, _Wakan Roei Shu_ 78; Murasaki Shikibu, trans. Edward Seidensticker, _Tale of Genji_ ; Kisen, _Kokinshu_ 983, trans. Edward Seidensticker, ibid.; Anonymous, _Kokin Rokujo, Zoku Kokka Taikan_ 35111, trans. Edward Seidensticker, ibid.


	13. The Hunter

Chapter 13  
The Hunter

She found herself wandering the streets of Tokyo, but it was empty. There was not a human or animal to be seen anywhere. Abandoned cars lined the streets. It was cloudy. The clouds were an ominous yellow. Gusts of wind blew dust along the sidewalks.

"Amon!" she called out. "Aaamonnn!"

There was no answer, no sound at all but the whistling of the wind.

She kept going. She gradually became aware of another sound, one that had faded from her awareness before: the distant, drawn out, rumbling heartbeat.

"What evil is it you think you have done, my dear Amon?" she wondered.

The city grew dark. It was night, and it was no longer empty. She heard sounds of distant cars and karaoke bars.

In the middle of an empty park, a woman furtively made her way through the shadows. She had light brown hair and wore a black jumpsuit. It was the woman Robin had seen before, the one she'd seen attacking Amon.

The woman stopped in the middle of a grove of tall trees. She took out a phone and dialed a number. "I'm here. I've got the files. Where are you?"

Robin, hidden in nearby trees, watched through the sight of a rifle.

No, not Robin: Amon.

Amon watched her as she paced, waiting for her to stay still long enough for him to get a shot. He was calm, cold, and controlled. But beneath the surface of his calm, he felt betrayed, hurt, used, and confused. But he ignored these feelings. She was a Witch now; killing her was his job. He would not allow emotions to disturb his aim.

Suddenly the woman stiffened and turned around. "I know you're there. Is that you, Amon?"

He didn't answer, only prepared the shot.

"Have the guts to face me if you're going to kill me, partner."

She was trying to taunt him into speaking so she could pinpoint his location.

"Kashiwagi isn't coming, is he? Did you kill him already? That comes easy to you, killing people you don't even know because you're ordered to. Is it really going to be that easy to kill me? After everything we've been through together?"

He had a shot, and his finger was tightening on the trigger when she moved again.

"They told you I'm a Witch, didn't they? They told us a Seed 'awakens' and becomes a Witch, but that's not how it really works. I've just admitted to myself what I've always been. What we both are, Amon."

He pulled the trigger.

With a wave of Kate's hand, the tree behind her twisted around to shield her from the bullet.

"There you are," she said triumphantly. "You're a fool to come after me in my own element. Not that I intended to give you a choice."

Her fingers stretched out to the left and the right, and the tree branches around her moved in accordance, with unnatural flexibility and strength they bent and stretched. She spotted Amon, now exposed, and with a crook of her finger she caused a tree to spin around, its trunk swinging toward him like a club.

He barely managed to duck out of the way.

Her power had advanced so quickly. Or had she always been so powerful and only hid it?

He rolled away from a large branch slapping into the ground, then he dove for cover behind a bush, and jumped to another hiding spot just as his former partner with her power smoothed it to the ground.

"You were going to sell the names of STN-J operatives to Witches," he accused her.

"So? I'm done with this battle. Witches and Hunters can kill each other off for all I care, as long as I'm nowhere near it. But it's not like Solomon will just let me walk away."

Amon, his back to a tree she hadn't taken possession of yet, checked his side gun to make sure it was fully loaded. "You were going to condemn your former colleagues to death."

"Kind of ironic, isn't it? That's exactly what your plan is for me."

Using her power exhausted her quickly, he knew. There was often a diminishing effect when Hunters used their powers, which was another reason he avoided using his.

Darting into the open, he opened fire on her while running as far as he could from the surrounding trees. Tree branches snaked in pursuit of him, while others whipped around to stop his bullets.

Kate's movements were beginning to slow. But it was apparent she wasn't about to give up.

He hadn't wanted to resort to this.

Dashing from his hiding place to a nearby tree, he dropped to the ground and used his power. He created a mirror image of himself. The doppelganger ran out into the open and aimed a gun at Kate.

The nearest tree swatted the ersatz Amon like a baseball bat.

Amon focused hard to make the illusion appear to move naturally, flying several meters before sprawling on the ground motionless.

Kate approached the illusion slowly. "Amon?"

Her voice, her posture, and her expression conveyed disbelief, though whether doubt or regret Amon couldn't tell. She sounded, confusingly, like she really hadn't expected to win.

"I'm sorry, Amon. But what choice did I have? Everyone has a right to self-preservation, even Witches."

She tried to touch the dead Amon, and the game was up. Her hand went right through him.

"What the..."

The illusion disappeared, but Amon had already made his way back to where he'd hidden his Orbo gun. He opened fire on Kate, putting four bullets in her before he risked approaching.

She looked up at him as she lay on the ground, trembling.

"You can't imagine how horrible this feels," she whimpered.

"I could say the same to you," he replied, and his voice held emotion he hadn't meant to show.

"At least do me the courtesy of a clean kill," she pleaded. "Don't let them take me to the Factory."

"That was not my order."

"Wait! Amon...there's something I have to tell you."

He stooped beside her, gun at the ready, and looked at her expectantly.

She whispered one word, and it was an accusation. "Witch."

He shot her with an anti-Witch bullet, one of the old ones carved with runes. Just one, in the forehead.

Robin found herself in a dark warehouse, the same rifle in her hands.

The order was shoot to kill. She...He...had done it before. This would be no different. This would be easier. He had never let himself get close to this partner.

And then he had her in his sights, her head right in the crosshairs. He'd have to take her at an unguarded moment. If she saw the bullet coming, she would incinerate it. And she was acting strangely, like she somehow sensed she was in danger.

She was becoming too powerful. They were right: she needed to die.

He talked to her through her earphone, giving her instructions on where to find the Witch they were supposedly hunting. She dutifully followed his orders.

It felt wrong to talk to her like that, like she was going to live, even as he fixed his rifle on her. He wondered if he was trying to convince her, or himself.

She was so young, so sweet, so eager to please. So beautiful. It seemed a shame to cut off her life, to bury that beauty...

To never see her again.

He ordered her to move to another location to give himself time to recover his resolve. When she reentered his line of sight at the location he had selected, he took the shot. His orders were to kill her. He would mourn her later.

But somehow he missed. She dove out of the way as soon as she heard the shot, but there was no way she should have been able to move out of the way fast enough to avoid it.

He opened fire, getting in six or seven more shots before the room went up in flame, blocking his view.

She would be on her guard now. He aborted the operation. And the feeling of relief that decision brought made him wonder: had something in him missed on purpose? He was an excellent shot; how else could he have missed?

It didn't matter. He'd failed in the hunt. Solomon would assume he couldn't bring himself to kill his own partner. They would send another Hunter.

The memory only confirmed what Robin had already known. The closest she'd ever come to death had been at Amon's hands. She didn't want that to bother her as much as it did.

* * *

It was bright, hot, and oppressively humid. She found herself deep in a forest of bamboo. She couldn't see the sky, but the sunlight illuminated the bamboo canopy like a glowing green gem.

She heard a gun cock behind her.

She turned slowly, and found herself facing Amon, holding a gun pointed squarely at her.

Was this from Amon's memory, or her own memory, or...

"Robin," he said gruffly, almost a growl.

"You know me?"

"Of course I know you; I familiarize myself with every Witch I hunt."

"Is that all I am?"

"All that matters."

She stared at him, wondering what was happening, and thinking how beautiful he looked in the green light.

"Are you here to kill me, Amon?" She asked.

"I'm a Witch Hunter. That's what I do."

"You chose not to kill me before."

He said nothing, but the corner of his lips flicked in a frown.

"Do you want to kill me?" she asked.

"I have obligations."

"You have obligations to me, too. You protected me. You said you didn't know if I should exist, but I had to survive for us to figure it out."

He looked confused, but he hadn't yet pulled the trigger.

"You took the Orbo bullet for me. That's killing you now. I'm trying to save you, Amon. Let me save you, and then you can decide to kill me. That choice is always yours to make."

He shook his head, frowning. "Why did I let you live? I'm a Witch Hunter. My job is to protect humans from your kind."

"Yes, but you do not follow orders blindly. You do what you feel is right regardless of what anyone tells you."

He shook his head again. "I follow orders. There are rules to obey. I'm not a Witch."

"They told me the same thing. They told me I was damned by my power unless I used it to hunt Witches. And that is important; when someone with a Witch's power abuses that power and becomes a danger to humans, there needs to be Hunters to stop them. And you are a great Hunter, but that is not all that you are."

"What else am I?" He wondered.

"My friend," Robin stated. "My partner. A compassionate, intelligent human being. I know you killed Kate. I know you used your power to do it, and I know that sickens you. I know part of you wishes you tried to help her. But it doesn't make you less human. Denying that you feel anything, denying that you're ever conflicted, that is what harms you. I know you don't want to allow yourself to use your power again, but you need to. You need to try. Or you will die."

He was trembling. Only his gun was still.

She stepped toward him slowly, stopping only when the barrel of the gun was pressed to her chest. "The truth is, I admire even this part of you, Amon. Your discipline, your drive, your dedication. You are perhaps the best Hunter I've ever known, exactly because you know when to let a Witch live. You look them in the eye, accept them for who they are. Maybe you didn't start out that way, but that's the Amon I know, the Amon I don't want to lose."

Without taking his eyes from her, he backed away slowly, until he merged into the green gloaming and was gone.

Was that what she really believed, that Amon owed it to her to try to survive? That he owed her anything? Was it that she wanted Amon to survive not for his own sake, but for hers?

Methuselah had warned her she could learn things about herself here that she didn't like.

* * *

Robin saw herself on the balcony of the apartment she shared with Touko. She was eating while the wind toyed with her wet hair.

Amon had watched her from the next building.

 _They will hunt her. They will kill her._

 _Her powers have grown too strong. She has to die._

 _She's just a girl. She has only ever killed to defend herself and others. She has saved my life. How can I let them hunt her?_

 _She's a Witch._

 _Is she a Witch? Where is the line? And when did she cross it?_

When Robin went back into her apartment, Amon left, still conflicted.

* * *

Amon stood in the living room of the apartment Touko and Robin shared. The walls and furniture were riddled with bullets.

Touko was in the hospital because Amon had stood by and let Solomon hunt Robin.

He checked his Orbo gun, making sure it was fully loaded and pressurized.

This happened because he'd failed. He should have killed Robin himself, then Touko wouldn't have been caught in the crossfire.

But that thought left him dissatisfied.

The living room, once so vibrant and welcoming, seemed desolate now, like a ghost town.

This happened because he'd chosen not to protect Robin.

He caught a glimpse of his own reflection in a wall mirror, and suddenly knew what his decision was.

He didn't want Robin to die. He was going to save her.

He turned and left quickly. There wasn't much time.

* * *

It was dusk, and Robin was once again in the deserted city, walking down streets that were familiar but eerily for their inexplicable emptiness.

She heard a small sound from down a dirty alley, a half-smothered sob. She would have missed the sound if the city hadn't been so silent.

She found a small boy trying to hide behind a trash can. He was curled up like an alley cat, weeping as quietly as he could.

"Are you lost?" she asked.

The boy looked up at her. His face was pale, his hair was dark. She couldn't discern the color of his eyes in the gloom.

"Not lost," he replied, voice shaky. "Thrown away."

Her eyes flicked over the boy's face. She knew him now. She hadn't at first. "What's your name?" she asked gently.

He shook his head. "No name. You need a mommy to have a name."

This wasn't a memory, she realized. She was looking at him, not through him. This boy was an aspect of Amon, a piece of his personality she'd never seen in him.

"What happened to your mommy?"

"She gave...gave me away. She didn't want me anymore."

"I'm sure that's not true. I'm sure there was a mistake."

The boy sniffled, and shook his head.

"Who's taking care of you?" Robin asked.

"Ms. Nagira, but she hates me, so I ran away."

Robin knew so little about Amon's past. Was he really so young when he began to fend for himself, or did this boy in front of her represent how young he felt at that time?

All she knew for sure was that she wanted to help this lost child. She wanted to comfort him and protect him, and get him to stop crying.

She reached out and pressed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't react to it.

"Where are you running to?" she asked.

"I don't know," he admitted quietly.

"Where does your mother live?"

He sniffled again, and then sobbed. "I don't know. I went to our old house and nobody was there. It was all broken."

"Broken..." she repeated. "Did your mother tell you why she sent you away?"

"No."

"What's your mother's name?"

"Just 'Mommy'."

"Why do you think she didn't want you anymore?"

For the first time, there was anger—a cold, calm hate unimaginable in such a small child—when he answered, "Because she was a Witch."

Robin grew cold. She drew her hand away involuntarily, suddenly afraid of Amon in a way she had never been before.

All this time it hadn't been a sense of duty and justice that had made him such a fervent hunter of Witches: it had been hate.

"Your mother was a Witch?" she asked.

The boy only nodded. He'd stopped weeping. It seemed his hatred had driven back a measure of his desolation.

In a dreamlike daze, Robin stood and backed away.

The boy stared at her with dismay and desperation. "Please don't leave! It's not my fault. I didn't mean for Mommy to be a Witch!"

She stopped and forced herself to turn back.

She had once said to Amon that everyone had some trace of darkness in their soul. He had replied that for some people it was a shade of gray while for others it was truly black. Had he been talking about Shiro Masuda—the Witch they were discussing at the time—or about himself?

Or was that what he believed about her?

"Do you know me?" she asked.

"No." The small boy was weeping fresh tears. "It's just," he gulped in a shaking breath, "you're the first person I've seen since...a long time. And you seem pretty nice."

"The thing is," Robin said deliberately, fearfully, "I'm a Witch myself."

The play of emotions on the boy's face was clear as crystal and heartbreaking to watch: a confused jumble of fear, hate, anger, disbelief, disappointment, and despair all chasing on the heels of each other. "No! You can't be! How can the first grown-up to ever find me be a Witch? It's no fair!" He collapsed on the ground sobbing.

Tenderness returning, Robin knelt beside him and tried to lift him up. "I want to help you. Not all Witches are evil. I don't believe I am, and I'm sure your mother loved you and thought she was doing what was best for you."

"You're lying!" He tried to hit her, but missed. "All Witches do is lie! You have no hearts! It's all a trick!"

"No, Amon. I would never try to trick you."

He stopped suddenly. "What was that name you called me? And why... What does it mean?"

"I heard it means 'the hidden one'," she said. "I didn't mean to call you that. It's the name of a man I love. He's a lot like you. He's lost, and I'm trying to find him. I'm trying to save him."

The boy looked hopeful for a moment, then he scrunched up his face and stubbornly shook his head. "You must be trying to trick him. Witches don't care about anybody."

"You're wrong. I care about him. And I care about you." She forcefully pulled him into her arms and held him tightly.

"No! Let me go! Let go of me, you Witch!"

He squirmed and kicked and swatted at her, but she didn't let go. She held him steadily until he collapsed in sobs, burying his face in her shoulder.

When he had exhausted his tears, she took him by the hand and walked out of the alley.

"I need to see the truth, Amon!" she called into the sky. "We both do. Memories can become corrupted, they can fade and warp. But the truth is still in your heart, even if it's buried. It's still here."

The dim cityscape faded away, along with the boy whose hand she still held.


	14. The Heart of Amon

Chapter 14

The Heart of Amon

Mommy didn't know he was still awake, but he had picked up on how nervous and excited she'd been all day, and wanted to know why.

He snuck out onto the balcony and climbed over the partition between his room and Mommy's room. Mommy didn't like it when he did that, but he was a really good climber.

He peeked through the small crack open at the corner of the curtain.

Mommy's room was lit with candles. She had a piece of paper on the floor, and she was checking the paper and drawing pictures on her floor with sand. She didn't like it when he made messes like that, so why did she get to do it?

It took her a long time to finish making the pictures. She was being really careful. He didn't know what the pictures were. Some of them looked like letters, but they weren't letters that he knew. She was drawing them in a design of concentric circles.

When she finished, she stood in the center of the circles. He heard her chanting.

"I am a descendent of Witches. I have the Witch nature within me. Draw it forth, Runes of Hecate!"

The circles and symbols on the floor began to glow with an eerie cold light.

She lifted her hands as if in a trance. The candles lifted into the air, levitating. Her fingers turned, and the floating lights turned in the air, casting dancing shadows on the wall. The light glittered in her raven black hair. Her eyes were sparkling, and her face was transformed by rapture into someone unrecognizable.

"Mommy?" he whispered, too quietly for there to be any chance of her hearing. He backed away, climbed back over the partition and went back into his own room. He hid under the covers.

* * *

She found herself in a house, in a bedroom, the cluttered, constricted bedroom of a teenage boy.

She turned around at the sound of a door opening and saw a teenage Nagira standing there.

"What are you doing in my room?" he asked, sounding curious and not at all upset.

"Nothing," the younger boy answered quickly.

"It's okay if you want to come in here," Nagira said. "It's just that there's stuff in here I don't want to get messed up. And some stuff I don't want my mom finding out about, so be careful about getting into things."

"Sorry."

"No need to be sorry. I know how hard it is for you to be here, moving in with people you don't even know. I want us to be friends. My mom wants us to be friends."

The boy looked down at his feet. "Your mom hates me," he mumbled.

"She doesn't hate you. She doesn't really _hate_ hate you, anyway. You just remind her of someone she doesn't like. But so do I. She got used to me. She'll get used to you too."

"I don't get it. Who do I remind her of? And why did she take me in anyway if she doesn't like me?"

Nagira sighed in that dismissive way only teenagers who were sure they knew better than everyone else were capable of. "My mom thinks we shouldn't tell you. She thinks you're too young to know."

"Too young? I'm ten and a half!"

"I know. And I don't think anyone's really too young to know the truth about life. But my mom doesn't think you should know, so don't tell her I told you this."

"Okay. I won't."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"When my mom kicked my dad out, my dad met your mom, and then your mom had you."

"What?"

"It's my dad. That's who you remind my mom of."

"Wait, are you saying… Are you saying I'm your brother?"

"Yeah. We've got the same dad."

The boy's mouth gaped open, and he stared at the older boy, the only person who'd been kind to him since moving here. "My mom never talked about my dad at all. She never told me I had a brother."

"My mother told me about you years ago. When I asked if I could meet you someday, she just said maybe."

The younger boy stared at the wall, then he shook his head like he was trying to get himself out if a daydream. "Why did your mom kick your dad out?"

"Because he changed. My mom said he wasn't the man she'd fallen in love with anymore."

"What did he do?"

"It wasn't anything he did, it was just what he was," Nagira replied.

"What was that?" When the older boy didn't answer right away, he plaintively added, "I thought you said no one's too young to know the truth about life."

"He was a Witch," Nagira answered. "Our dad is a Witch."

And all of a sudden the young boy understood why Mommy left, why she coldly left him in the house of strangers and disappeared. He suddenly knew who it was his mother talked to on the phone late at night, why sometimes she left him with a babysitter all day to go on secret trips.

She'd chosen the love of a man over her own son. She'd abandoned her duty as a mother for a man.

No, not a man: a Witch.

* * *

It was a cold morning, the dead of a snowy winter. He had been asleep in the car, but woke up when a cold gust of air blew into the car from an open door.

His mother closed the door slowly, trying not to wake him. She went to an old payphone at the side of the road and made a call.

The boy peeked out the window. He could hear some words of the conversation.

"I have no one else to turn to. They've been following me, watching me. I don't know what else to do... Please. I will give you all the money I have, all my savings... No, nothing... But he's a Seed. What do you think they'll do to him when they come for me? ... For your son's sake..." She closed her eyes as relief washed over her face. "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you." She wrote something down. "Thank you." Then she hung up the phone.

Her son was pretending to be asleep when she climbed back in the car

* * *

Robin was in a dark forest. The trees were bare of leaves, perhaps dead. Their branches made tangled cobwebs against the starry sky.

"There must be more," she said. "Some moment, some instance that shows your mother's true feelings. Maybe something you don't consciously remember, or something too painful to remember." She looked around and there was no response. "Show me... Show me the last time your mother saw you."

* * *

Another snowy day. Mommy drove him up to a strange house.

"This is it," she said, her voice oddly emotionless.

A woman stepped out the front door. She had a hard face and hair pulled up in a careful, severe bun. She folded her arms and waited on her front step.

Mommy looked at the woman for a moment, looking almost scared.

"That's Ms. Nagira," she explained. "She's going to take care of you."

Mommy took a large suitcase out of the car and left it on the sidewalk. Ms. Nagira didn't approach or speak, only watched.

"There's another boy here for you to play with," Mommy continued. "He's a few years older than you. Try to be nice to him. Do what you're told and don't get in trouble."

"How long do I have to stay here, Mommy?"

She didn't look at him. This whole time she had not looked directly at him. "A while, sweetheart."

"When will you come visit?"

"I'm afraid I won't be able to."

He started to cry. "Why? Please don't go! Let me come with you." He wrapped his arms around her waist.

She tried to pull away. "I can't."

" _Please_!"

She averted her face and tried to pry him away from her. "I can't take you. You'll understand when you're older."

"No! Mommy! Don't go."

"I can't let anything happen to you. I can't..." She turned away from him, and an invisible force stronger than her physical body pried the boy's hands and arms back, lifted him off his feet, and placed him on the sidewalk next to the suitcase, pinning him there as Mommy got into the car and drove away, her shoulders shaking from the effort of using her power.

When the force released him, Mommy was already too far away to run after. He slid to the ground sobbing.

Ms. Nagira came down and carried the suitcase into the house. "Come in from the cold whenever you're ready," she said. "This is your home now."

* * *

"Amon, you don't understand," Robin said. "She wasn't shaking from using her power; she was crying."


	15. Inner Sanctum

Chapter 15  
Inner Sanctum

An autumn field in the mountains, blossoming with pink bush clover and the yellow flowers called _ominaeshi_ in Japanese...

Robin hadn't known the name of that flower. Amon did.

"You're here, aren't you?"

He walked up next to her and stopped, looking over the landscape.

She watched him from the corner of her eye. Her heart was fluttering. Which Amon was this?

"'In the Autumn fields,  
When I see the flowers,  
My heart:  
What should I say: that it's content,  
Or that they draw it from me?'"

After quoting the poem, he looked at her. He looked at her the same way he looked at the flowers.

"You know who I am?"

"Of course. I've known you since the moment I saw you." He looked away. "I've felt you in my heart since you came."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."

He shook his head. "That's not the way I remembered it, the last time I saw my mother. I never realized she was crying. I didn't think she ever cried."

Robin watched him, wishing he would look at her again. "When your mother became a Witch, she didn't know the choice that would force her to make. She didn't know it would mean losing you. But she had to be true to who she was, and to whom she loved, or it would have killed her. It would have suffocated her heart. You must understand that. And she left you with family who would take care of you. Your mother still loved you, Amon."

"Maybe she did." He looked contemplative. "Her name was Heiko. No one else knows that. Solomon doesn't know who my parents were, not even Nagira knows her name. But you deserve to know it."

"Did you ever look her up in the STN-J records? Do you know if she was hunted?"

"I never looked." After a moment, he said, "Maybe I will, if we ever go back."

"We?"

"If Karasuma tells us it's safe for you to return. I wouldn't go without you."

Robin's lips moved. There was so much she wanted to say. So much she couldn't find the words to say. "Amon..."

When she trailed off, he spoke. "I never meant for anyone to see the things in my heart. Especially not you. But in a way I'm glad you did. Now you understand why I can't love you the way you deserve to be loved."

The words struck Robin like a knife, but she choked the pain down. Her feelings for Amon had never been contingent on his feelings for her. As much it might hurt, she would accept whatever he had to say.

"You were going to tell me..." she said, "You were going to answer my question about if you've ever been in love."

"The truth is, I'm not sure if I was in love with Touko. When I was with her, it was the happiest I had been since my childhood. Her father didn't approve. At the time, we thought it was because of the inherent danger of my job as a Hunter."

"But it was because Zaizen didn't want his daughter to marry a Seed," Robin said.

He nodded.

"Is that what came between you?"

He shook his head. "It was my fault. I could blame Kate, but it was my own mistake."

"Kate?" Robin repeated, and realized she already knew. She knew from how betrayed and manipulated Amon had felt when he hunted her. "She seduced you."

"I realized when I learned about her plan to betray the STN-J that she'd hoped if I fell in love with her I would help her escape. It was never love between us, but for a short time I believed it was. I didn't understand the passion, almost desperation, that she demonstrated toward me. She never knew about me and Touko, and I broke it off with Touko for her. Touko had never asked for more from me than I was willing to freely offer. Kate demanded everything I could give and more. Being with her was a foolish mistake, but at the time I called it fate. She was a Hunter, I was a Hunter. I thought she understood me. When I learned the truth... When I killed her... I knew I could never have what I could have had with Touko. And then I saw you."

Robin looked at him questioningly.

A warm, fragrant breeze blew across the autumn meadow. The sky was deep blue, streaked with feathery white clouds.

"I resumed a friendship with Touko, but when I realized she wanted more than that, I told her that I didn't think we should see each other again. She wasn't surprised. But she asked me one question. She asked me if I could ever open my heart to someone again. That was her concern. Even if it wasn't with her, she wanted me to be happy with someone. It was a question I couldn't answer." His eyes flicked to her. "You were there."

"Me?"

"I knew from the beginning that you had a certain fascination with me," he said. "I attributed it to a youthful infatuation."

"It was more than that. You must have realized how deep my feelings truly went. That's why you knew you had to be the one to hunt me if I was corrupted by power; you knew I could never bring myself to hurt you."

"I came to understand how unfairly I had underestimated you. You were never the foolish child I first thought you were. I found I couldn't manage to keep my own heart clear of affection for you. And when Zaizen told me you were a Witch, I didn't want to believe it. That led me to realize that I loved you too."

Her eyes widened. But hadn't he just said he couldn't love her?

No, she realized, that wasn't what he'd said at all.

"Amon, how exactly do you think I deserve to be loved?"

"Without reserve, without regrets, without darkness. You should be loved by someone who can worship you the way you deserve to be worshiped."

"No, Amon," she said sharply. "That is the last thing I would ever want. Especially from you. I want to be loved as an equal, by someone who will respect what is good in me and help me improve what is not. I want to be loved by someone who is complicated, and strong-willed, someone who will be my anchor when I need one. I want you, Amon, darkness and all."

He frowned at her. "Still? After everything I've told you? Everything you've seen in me?"

"Yes. Why do you think I was so happy that you would be my warden? Even though it was only in case you had to kill me, it meant I would be close to you, that I would be able to see you every day, talk with you, be near you."

He looked at her for a moment without speaking, then he said, "Sometimes I think perhaps I told myself you might come to abuse your power because it gave me an excuse to stay near you. In my heart I don't believe you would ever become a danger."

"I don't think I will, either. But now at least I know that in case I do, I can trust you to stop me, whether or not…"

"Whether or not what?"

Instead of answering, she took a step toward him, her eyes fixed on his.

"Robin...?"

She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, then curled them around the back of his neck.

Amon's eyes drifted closed as he let her guide his head down until their lips met.

Robin closed her eyes. She immersed herself in this kiss she had wanted for so long.

His hand rested on her shoulder for a moment, and then moved to her hair, running its silky strands between his fingers. His lips parted slightly, and she took a step closer.

As a tingling bliss spread through them, they forgot what they were doing, forgot the forms of their own bodies. They were soul kissing soul.

It was Amon who drew away first. He experienced a moment of disorientation as his sense of self returned and formed him back into a body.

Robin blinked at him, her jade-green eyes dark and dreamy.

"You said...this is a dream. You said I could get out of it by using my power. What did you mean?"

Robin had trouble remembering at the moment. In this beautiful meadow, with Amon, and especially after that kiss, it was hard to remember the crisis that had brought her here. "The Orbo...it's invading your body. Karasuma said that it feeds on a Witch's power, but when it absorbs that power it breaks apart. I guess it can only take so much of it."

"Which is why it takes more Orbo to bring down more powerful Witches," he said. "It makes sense, but if I'm dreaming, how can I use my power?"

"You weren't completely asleep. You were struggling to wake up. I believe you're conscious enough that if you try to use your power here, it will manifest outside you."

He looked around. "I can sense the Orbo. I've been able to sense it for...days, weeks. Growing stronger."

"There's something else."

"What?"

"Emotion. It also also feeds on emotion."

"That explains it. After kissing you, I feel like it's coming closer, like it's angry."

"We could try drawing it out by kissing again," she suggested.

He gave her a strange look, and then he actually smiled in amusement. He kissed her, warmly and deeply. Then he took both of her hand in his and pressed his forehead to hers. "I do love you, Robin," he said.

"I'm so glad."

He held her as the ground began to shake.

"It's coming," Robin breathed.

"No. I'm going to it."

The ground began to break apart, and something horrible oozed up from between the cracks. It was gooey, and a disgusting yellow-blue-white in color. Robin felt from it the same feeling of revulsion that she had always felt, though to a much lesser degree, in the proximity of Orbo. But this Orbo had gotten into Amon's cells, spreading from one to the next, infecting him.

"I think you should leave now," he said.

"No. We face this thing together. Whatever happens, we're in it together."

He kissed her one more time, quickly. Then he turned toward the nearest Orbo blob, which was sliding toward them like a slug the size of a house. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His hand gave Robin's a squeeze.

Dark shadow-tendrils appeared from the sky. They were a larger version of the shadowy monster that attacked them along with the illusion of Kate.

The shadow-monsters flew at the giant blobs of Orbo. In a moment, as Amon grew reaccustomed to deliberately using his power, the shadows formed into giant blackbirds. Claws and beaks tore at the Orbo monsters.

"Amon, look! They're hurting them! They're not just illusions here!"

She was right. In the dreamworld of the heart where illusion was truth, the manifestations of Amon's illusions were equal to the manifestations of the Orbo. As the giant blackbirds attacked, the bodies of the blobs broke into gashes. The gashes quickly healed, melding back into the bodies of the monsters, but they caused the monsters to shrink, slowly but discernibly with each attack.

But the monsters kept coming. There were over a dozen now, and more squeezing out of the ground every moment. For now, Amon's blackbirds were holding them off, but Robin was growing scared. She had been focused on getting Amon to use his power; she had not thought what might happen if he wasn't powerful enough.

The Orbo blobs were getting closer, moving like amoebas, advancing from all directions.

"Robin, can you attack them?"

"No. I'm separated from my body right now. That's where my power is."

He glanced at her. "You are in my mind. How did you get here?"

"A Craft. A very ancient one."

"Can they hurt you? Can the Orbo hurt you here?"

"I don't know," she answered. "I didn't have enough time to figure out all the details of how it works."

Amon's strength was failing. His blackbirds had completely destroyed two of the Orbo monsters, and several others had been cut down to a smaller size. But the smaller ones would merge together to form one giant blob, and more were still coming.

And Amon's blackbirds were beginning to fade.

"We need to retreat," he said.

The turned and ran. The remaining shadow birds cleared a path, and as they ran the bamboo forest appeared around them.

"This is the place where you hunted me," Robin noted.

"This is the place where I'm in control, where I'm calm and confident."

"So...the hunter, the child, the man who was looking for me but didn't recognize me, which one were you?"

"All of them," he answered. "And...none of them."

"I see. No one is just one person. Each one was a facet of your personality, and you...the you I'm with now...you're another facet?"

"Yes," he said, but he sounded uncertain.

"Or are you the sum total, the complete Amon?"

"I don't...think so," he said.

They reached a cave, or Amon created it for them, and stopped to rest.

"Did we escape them?" Robin wondered.

"No, but they haven't found us. Yet."

"It was working. You were beating them down."

"I wasn't strong enough," Amon said.

Robin looked at the mouth of the cave, worried that at any moment the creatures would invade it. "There must be something more I can do. Some Craft."

"I thought you said you couldn't use your power here."

"Not my fire, but I might be able to create a Rune spell. The power of the Craft is based on knowledge, not inborn abilities." She thought. "I could try runes to ward off evil."

"That could keep it from reaching us, but it wouldn't destroy it."

Robin nodded, disheartened. Then another idea came to her. "Amon?"

"Yes?"

"I know a Craft that could strengthen your power."

He gave her a searching look. She couldn't read his expression.

"This Craft," he asked, "would its effects be permanent?"

"No. I mean, I'm not sure. In the world it would last as long as the runes remained undisturbed, but here I'm not even sure it would work."

"Is there a chance it would awaken me as a Witch?"

She knew he was thinking of the Craft his mother had used to awaken her own powers. It was a different spell. The one she knew used Elder Futhark runes, while the one Amon's mother had written used what had looked like Old Italic or Carian.

She could just say no; that would make Amon more likely to agree to it. And if Amon survived it didn't matter to her if he was a Witch or not.

But it would matter to him.

"I don't know," she answered. "Honestly, I've never heard of a non-Witch using it, so I don't know what effect it could have."

He was quiet for a long moment, then he said, "Do it."

"I'll need something to write it with."

Amon closed his eyes.

There was a fire pit in the cave. Whether it had been there before or not, Robin couldn't tell, but she suddenly noticed it. She found a chunk of charcoal in it.

"This will work."

She began drawing the rune wheel on the stone wall of the cave.

Amon watched her work for a minute, then he said quietly, "Robin, you understand this place better than I do. When you asked if I was the complete Amon...I don't think I am, because whatever part of me could hunt you... I remember hunting you, I remember intending to kill you, but I can't understand how I could do that. All I can feel for you right now is love. If this works and I recover..."

Robin frowned and the hand that was writing the runes slowed as she comprehended what he was saying. "When you wake up, you might not feel the same."

"There will always be a part of me that loves you. There always has been. But I'm not sure..."

"I understand," she said quickly, hoping he would drop the subject so she could concentrate on the runes that could save him without tears to blur her sight.

"Whatever happens, and whatever I might say, never forget that I love you."

"I wouldn't."

Amon stared at the mouth of the cave tensely. "It's coming closer. It's honing in on us."

"I'm almost done." Robin wrote the last two runes, then turned toward him.

"How will I know if it works?" He asked.

"You'd feel it," Robin answered, her heart already sinking. "You'd feel a surge of power."

Slowly, he shook his head.

The charcoal marks began melting and dripping down the stone wall before fading to nothing.

"It's not solid. It's not physical. It has no physical dimensions. It won't work," Robin realized. "I'm truly powerless here."

"Would it work if..." Amon paused, clearly pained by what he was suggesting, "if you went back? If you cast this Craft from the outside?"

She looked at him, and reluctantly nodded. "It might. I believe it would. But that would mean...Amon, I don't want to abandon you."

"Do you have any other ideas?"

She had to admit that she didn't.

They stared at each other, and the decision was made and acknowledged wordlessly.

She went to him and kissed him, pressing her lips against his so hard they hurt. She was terrified this would be the last time she'd ever see him. When she broke away she stared into his eyes for a long moment.

"Come back to me, Amon," she begged him, her voice choked with emotion.

He didn't say anything. He wouldn't make a promise he wasn't sure he could keep.

She nodded understanding. She didn't trust herself to say goodbye, either.

She knew how to return to herself. She must have known the whole time. She closed her eyes and declared in a clear, firm voice, "I am Robin."

* * *

Note: The poem is by Akazome Emon, _Shika Wakashu 113_ , from 2001 Waka, trans. Thomas McAuley


	16. The Pantomime

Author's note: Final chapter! Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story!

Chapter 16  
The Pantomime

She was yanked back to herself with a violent, dizzying whirl. Gasping, she bolted upright from where she'd been lying with her head on Amon's chest, and for a moment she was so nauseous from the transition she was afraid she would vomit.

But it passed. She unsteadily got to her feet, swayed, collapsed to the floor, and crawled to the kitchen. She drank some cold tea, and hastily ate a slice of bread and a handful of walnuts, She didn't know how long she'd been in Amon's mind, but it felt like she hadn't eaten in days.

Then she found her calligraphy box and returned to Amon's room.

Using a few drops of tea to mix the ink, Robin painted the rune wheel on the paper screen nearest Amon's bed. She began writing the runes. She finished the Craft in a few minutes, then watched Amon for any sign that it worked.

It came almost immediately. A giant shadow blackbird appeared in the room. It was so large that each time it flapped its elegant wings, they would pass right through the walls and ceiling. Another appeared. It dove with claws outstretched, passing right through Robin without so much as a breath of air, and moving through the wall.

Overcome with curiosity, Robin opened the door and looked outside. In the waning evening light, a dozen giant blackbirds whirled and dove, tearing at invisible foes with beaks and claws.

She watched the performance in amazement for a couple of minutes, and then returned to Amon's side, leaving the door open so she could have a better view of what was happening.

She examined Amon's shoulder. The area of the infection, which before had been ghostly pale, had turned red and swollen.

In a kaleidoscope of ethereal feathers, half a dozen of Amon's blackbirds suddenly somersaulted through the room. The fight must have been fierce.

Orbo absorbed power even from the Hunters who wore it, Robin recalled. Perhaps in a small way, she could aid in the battle. She created a fire, just a small one, near Amon. The flame levitated in the air above him, as close to the site of the Orbo infection as she dared come without burning him. Perhaps her power could add to his own, even if it was just a small contribution, to combat the Orbo.

Her fire flickered, sputtered. She could feel the Orbo sucking at her power, weakly but greedily.

After another minute or so, the dark birds began to fade. Some of them disappeared completely, but those that remained continued attacking their unseen enemy.

His strength was giving out.

"Amon, don't give up. You have to keep fighting. You have to. We have to win." She pressed her hand to his chest. "Please. We're beating them. I can sense it. You just have to fight for a little longer."

The remaining birds rallied themselves, attacking with renewed zeal, but without their initial force.

Her own strength was faltering. The fire she kept burning was taking a great deal of energy and concentration. She couldn't maintain it. The fire sputtered out.

Moments later, the birds joined together into another shape, something long, serpentine.

A dragon, she realized.

The shadow-dragon circled around, only some of it visible, partly within the cottage, mostly outside. But she could see the dragon was coiling around something, something huge.

The last stand of the Orbo.

The dragon curled into a ball, smaller and smaller. And then suddenly it disappeared.

It was over. But had they won or lost?

She looked at Amon. He was still unconscious.

"Amon? Amon, wake up." She shook him, but couldn't rouse him.

His shoulder was still streaked with livid red marks from where the Orbo had spread. Did that mean it was still in him, or just that his body hadn't healed? He seemed to be asleep, soundly. Perhaps he just needed rest.

She lay her head on his chest, reassured by the rise and fall of his breathing and the beating of his heart.

A tear slid down her cheek.

What would she do if he didn't wake up? What else was there to try?

* * *

She awoke and opened her eyes slowly. From the light she could tell it was morning, a pink dawn. She sat up. She was in Amon's room, in his bed, under his blankets. There was no sign of him.

"Amon?" she called blearily.

He came in from the next room. He was freshly bathed and freshly shaved.

"You're awake," he said.

She stood up. "You're awake. Do you remember what happened?"

He crossed the room to her, wrapped one strong arm around her waist, pulled her to him, and pressed his lips to hers. She felt like her legs were melting from beneath her, and she had to wrap her arms around his neck to keep from falling.

He ended the kiss and just held her. "I remember everything," he said. "You came for me."

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Weak," he admitted. "But I don't feel like I'm being sucked dry. All these years that I used Orbo without understanding where it came from or how it worked, or what it could do to me. To think I thought you were foolish for refusing to use it."

"I was thinking... I think you should use your power, just a little bit, every day until we're sure the Orbo is out of your system."

He hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly nodded.

Robin smiled, then kissed him, then slipped out of his arms. "I need to call Karasuma. I promised to tell her when you woke up."

When she was at the door, Amon stopped her. "Robin, wait a moment."

She turned back.

He looked at her with fondness and sadness. "I don't hate Witches. There was a long time when I did, but I learned better. Master is a Witch, and he has been like a father to me. And I could never hate you."

"There is nothing I hold against you, Amon," Robin replied. "Especially now, knowing where you came from."

"I couldn't blame you for being angry at the things I've kept from you."

"I'm not. But... I wish you told me about the Orbo, what it was doing to you."

"I didn't understand what was happening. I didn't know why my power was suddenly becoming active, without my conscious control. And I didn't want to worry you."

"I know. And because of that I almost lost you." She smiled softly at him, and took his hand. "How about from now on no more keeping things from each other. We're together now."

He smiled. It was a small, ghostly smile, almost nothing. But it was something. "Yes we are." He kissed her hand. "Go call Karasuma. She must be worried."

At the door of the room, Robin glanced back. Amon was watching her.

They were together, he'd agreed. They were no longer alone. He was hers as much as she had always been his, and that thought was terrifying as well as elating. There was no illusion that their relationship would be an easy one—they were both too used to being alone. But she also had no doubt that they loved each other, and they needed each other.

The most important thing, as far as she was concerned, was that Amon was alive. They would go from there.

The End


End file.
